A Promise of Tomorrow
by Shadow's Mirror
Summary: Starts where the show ended. While Angel and the others battle, Lorne is rescued from assassins. Now it's up to him to save the others, with some help from a song and a few other singers. (complete)
1. Lorne's Fate

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place immediately after the final episode. If you haven't seen it... **Major Spoilers Ahead!** You have been warned! It's rated for character deaths (in the series but mentioned in this story) and some violence in later chapters.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 1: Lorne's Fate  
By Shadow's Mirror

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The bar was one of those smoky, dimly lit establishments where no one knew anyone else or wanted to know anyone else. Total anonymity. That was exactly what Lorne wanted at that particular moment. Unfortunately, it seemed that the bar's newcomers weren't aware of that aspect of the social niceties.

Lorne sighed and glanced at the group of 'men' approaching him. They looked like regular humans, all heavyset with shaven heads, square jaws, steely eyes and muscles that would make a wrestler envious. At least they'd made an effort to blend in. In this seedy part of town, there was nothing about their looks that would attract any undue attention. Even their clothes were simple and effective camouflage. Black t-shirts and faded denim jeans, no, nothing odd there. Lorne might have been fooled… if they hadn't arrowed in on him as soon as they entered the room, and if he hadn't been expecting their arrival. Oh, not them exactly. He hadn't known the form in which his death would arrive, but from the moment he had agreed to Angel's plan, he had known his death would come.

But why couldn't they have waited until he'd finished off another Seabreeze?

His hand tightened on his glass and he resolutely turned his back on the approaching demons. If Wolfram and Hart's Senior Partners wanted to take him down, then fine. He'd go out drinking. After all, it was the only pleasure in life that he still had. He closed his eyes momentarily as a flash of self-pity filled him. After everything he'd seen, everything he'd done, this was how it was going to end. In a smoke-filled hole-in-the-wall where everyone would hear him scream and no one would care. Great.

As he raised the glass to his lips, he absently noted that his hand was steady. He was proud of that because it meant that he wasn't scared. On the other hand though, he was also disappointed. It also meant that he wasn't yet drunk. He'd hoped he would be. Maybe then he wouldn't have such a strong urge to try to fight the demons who had been sent to kill him.

Taking a long sip of his drink he considered that for a moment. His chances were abysmal at best if he tried to fight. He didn't particularly want to die, but on the other hand he'd already taken one life that night and he was still sickened by it. He wasn't a fighter. He never had been. But he'd done what he'd had to do. For Angel.

Lorne sighed and took another sip as the memory of Lindsey's startled eyes filled his mind. The idiot had honestly believed that they'd give him a chance to turn on them. With the Senior Partners now out for blood, it had been obvious that Lindsey would have used the situation to his advantage. He would never have been able to resist the chance to get back in the Senior Partner's good graces. He was slimier than a Pylean Sliggerslug… and that was slimy! Besides, Lorne had heard him sing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound behind him. Lorne sighed. Apparently he wasn't going to have time to finish off his drink after all. He slowly lowered the glass back to the table and took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. "Okay guys, so, what's it going to be? Axes? Swords? Knives? At least make it quick. Oh, and don't bother trying to behead me. Trust me, that doesn't work." Lorne smiled to himself. What the hey, a little reverse psychology never hurt. It had worked for Briar Rabbit.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of saving your friends."

The female voice was as soft and smooth as sun-warmed velvet and as familiar to Lorne as the words to a favourite song. The only thing more surprising to him than hearing it at that moment was hearing it saying those particular words. He spun around on his stool and stared in shock at the hooded figure standing a few feet away from him. His gaze shifted to take in the six figures sprawled on the ground behind her. The room was too dark for him to see clearly, but Lorne thought he could make out a pool of dark liquid spreading from underneath each of them. His stomach turned at the thought. He looked back at the hooded woman. He may not have approved of her methods, but at that moment he was too grateful to complain. Apparently Fate wasn't quite through with him after all. Lorne smiled.

"Hey, Sweetpea. Thanks for the assist. What was that you said about my friends?"

"The Senior Partners have sent a demonic horde after them. I thought you might be interested in assisting me in sending said horde back to the realms of chaos from which they have ascended." The hooded figure shrugged slightly, as though dealing with a demonic horde would be no more strenuous than taking a walk in the park. Lorne blinked.

"Nice idea, Sugarmuffin, but I hope you have a good plan because I'm fresh out. I don't even know if it's possible to do what you're suggesting." He tried to ignore the pain the knowledge caused him. The thought of Angel and his other friends in trouble... But he'd already made his choice. He was helpless to do anything to save them and he couldn't bear to just stand by and watch as they died. He'd already had to do that with Fred. He couldn't bear to go through that torture again.

The hooded figure raised her head and started to sing. It was an old tune, wordless and almost tuneless, but the moment she began to sing it the entire bar fell silent. Lorne's heart almost stopped as his gift kicked in and he 'read' her soul as she sang. In that moment, he knew exactly who and what she was.

The figure ended her song and stood still, silently regarding Lorne as she awaited his verdict.

Lorne blinked and stared up at her in disbelief. During his life as the Host of Caritas, the demon karaoke bar he'd once owned, he'd encountered her many times. She'd been a regular visitor to the club, but he had never heard her sing. Now he knew why. "Oh. Yeah. I guess it is possible after all."

After paying his bill, along with a generous tip to the bartender to cover the clean-up since he knew how hard it was to get demon-blood out of wood floors without it staining, Lorne escorted the woman out of the bar. As they walked through one of the many back-alleys that he always favoured when out and about, he thought of something. "Did you say they sent an entire horde after Angel and the others? They only sent six demons after me. I think I'm insulted." A soft chuckle came in reply.

"If it is any consolation, it is a rather small horde, as demonic hordes go." The figure paused for a moment before adding, "although the dragon should make things a little more interesting."

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To be continued…


	2. The Battle Rages

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is pretty much spoiler-free, however it contains some violence, since it focuses on the battle.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 2: The Battle Rages  
By Shadow's Mirror

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The sword swung in a clean arc, and the life of a demon was taken in the process. Angel didn't have time to congratulate himself though. Two more demons immediately stepped up to take the place of the fallen one. As Angel moved back to avoid their serrated blades, his back came into contact with someone else. He didn't have to look to know who it was. He'd know that scent anywhere.

"Hey, Spike, you ever heard of a little thing called 'room to move'? 'Cause that's really what I need right now." He spoke over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off his opponents as he blocked their attacks with his sword.

"Love to mate, but I'm kinda… pinned here myself." Angel didn't miss the strained tone of Spike's voice, or the slight hesitation before the word 'pinned'. He sighed to himself.

"How bad you hurt?" As he spoke, his sword slashed out and one of his opponents fell.

A harsh chuckle was his only answer for a moment, then, "That settles it. You know me too well. Two hits to the shoulder… I think… could have been three."

"You don't know? How can you not…" Angel paused as he lashed out with his fist, catching his remaining opponent by surprise and temporarily stunning him. The moment was all Angel needed. One swift strike and it was over. Then three demons charged at him. He pushed their initial attack back and completed his query. "How can you not know how many times you've been hit?"

There was silence for a moment and Angel was aware of his companion moving behind him. He was also suddenly aware of the sharp coppery smell of blood. Concern washed over him. "Spike?"

"I'm here. Just had to deal with a couple of… actually not sure what they were, but 'ugly' would be a compliment for 'em." Spike's voice faltered slightly at the last, and Angel's concern grew. "As for the shoulder, I got hit three times, but it depends on if you're counting fists or just pointy things."

"Oh." Angel paused to block one attack, counter a second and behead his third opponent. "Can you see any of the others?"

Another chuckle greeted his question. "Yeah, that's you all over isn't it? Always concerned about everyone else instead of yourself."

"I'm just asking." Angel ducked a blade aimed for his neck and took the opportunity offered. The move had left his opponent wide open. The only problem was, as he attacked that opponent, his other opponent moved in and got a good hit on Angel's sword arm. Angel gritted his teeth, completed his attack and tried not to wince at the pain. He'd had worse. "Can you see them or not?"

"Hang on." The figure behind Angel moved and something cried out. Screamed out, actually. Angel winced at the sound.

"Kanapros Demon. You never forget that death cry. It's distinctive."

"Not to mention loud. Right, Gunn's been cornered off to the left, but he's holding his own. They seem to be reserving the strongest fighters for you, me and Illyria. Can't say I blame 'em, to be honest."

"My left or yours?" Angel glanced around and almost missed seeing the two attacks aimed at him at once. Almost. He moved quickly, darting forward so his attackers were forced to change the angle of their attacks. Then he ducked back again at the last moment. As his two opponents fell to each other's swords, Angel took a moment to have a longer look around. "Never mind, I see him."

As he watched, Gunn took out two of his opponents, clearing a small break in the line of demons who had cornered him. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Angel to be able to see him more clearly. He frowned.

"He doesn't look too good, does he?" Spike unknowingly echoed Angel's thoughts. "That's the trouble with humans… no stamina for the really long battles. Have to say though, he's doing better than I thought he would. He's still standing and it's been, what, six or seven minutes now?"

"I'd say six." Angel took his eyes off Gunn just in time. He winced as a blade came a little too close for comfort to his neck. With Spike at his back, he didn't have much room to maneuver in, but he managed to move back enough to avoid the fatal blow. Then he retaliated with a swift punch and swifter strike, neither of which his opponent was able to avoid.

As the demon went down, a wordless scream of pure rage split the air from somewhere in the midst of the battle raging nearby. It made the battle cries of the demon hoard they were facing seem no louder than the whimper of a hurt puppy.

"I'll say one thing for that girl, she sure has a good set of lungs on her. And she's not bad in the 'tearing things apart with her bare hands' department either." Angel had to agree with Spike on both those points. Illyria seemed to be throwing everything that she had at the demons surrounding her. But he was confused about one thing.

"Hey Spike, you wouldn't happen to know why she's screaming like that, would you? Not that I'm complaining. Every time she does, these guys cringe. That has to be a good thing. But still…"

"I figure it's one of those primal scream things you read about in those magazines. You know, in those articles about focusing your rage and channelling it into where it needs to go."

"You mean you actually read those articles?" Angel couldn't resist the opening. He also couldn't resist the opening that his opponent had just made due to a rather clumsy attack. It wasn't until Angel had started his own lunge at the demon that he realised it hadn't been clumsy at all. It had been planned.

"What? Er… No! Of course I don't! I'd never…" Spike paused in his attempted cover-up, as he felt Angel jerk to a standstill behind him. "Angel?" He started to look, but his opponent chose that moment to attack. He fended him off, then put him permanently out of action with a quick strike. Other demons were moving in but Spike knew he had a moment or two before they were on top of him. He glanced behind him.

"Angel!"

If his heart had been beating, it would have stopped at that moment.

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To be continued…


	3. Strategies and Weak Points

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is pretty much spoiler-free, however it contains some violence, since it focuses on the battle.

TEMPORARY AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'll remove this in a few chapters' time, but I just wanted to say a special thank you to The Hostess for her review. I'm very pleased that you like my story, and thank you for the 'evil' compliment, but I'm especially glad to know that I'm not the only one who has received that sort of criticism from that particular reviewer. Thank you very much! (I'd reply to that particular reviewer as well, but I suspect from the review that she's no longer reading this.) Now then, enough notes and on with the story!

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 3: Strategies and Weak Points  
By Shadow's Mirror

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"I'm… okay…" Spike could see Angel's words came at a cost.

"No, you're not. You've got a whopping great sword sticking through your chest." He was distracted for a moment as a demon charged in for an attack. Spike barely paid it any attention as he easily blocked the move and used the dagger in his other hand to separate the demon's head from its neck. He returned his attention to Angel, as the demons opposing him stepped back to regroup and reconsider their strategy. Normally, Spike would have chosen that moment to charge them and inflict some serious damage, but he was more interested in watching Angel try to fight with a massive sword sticking out of him.

"I've had worse. Where did you get the dagger?" Angel winced as he brought his sword up and around in a not-quite-smooth arc. The attack was a little slow and clumsy perhaps, but it still did the job. His opponent, whose sword was currently stuck in Angel and therefore no use at all for defense, made a startled sound. The demon's body fell to the ground. His head followed a moment later.

"I've given you worse. Took it from one of the big green guys a minute or so back. There's another one over here. Want it?" For once, Spike was happy to share. His attention was caught by a whisper of movement. He turned in time to duck a sword thrust and grinned as he returned the attack, only with more skill and speed. His opponent fell, but there were three waiting to take the demon's place.

"Big green guys… wait a minute… You defeated a Porithnas demon? I don't believe it!" Angel sounded both annoyed and incredulous.

"Gee… thanks for the vote of confidence, mate. Just for that, you can get your own dagger." Spike huffed in indignation at the slur on his fighting skills. After a moment's thought though, he added, "You're just jealous 'cause I got the dagger and you didn't." He smirked and plunged the dagger in question into his opponent's chest, slashing his sword at another demon at the same time.

"Actually, no, I'm just surprised that the Senior Partners would go to so much trouble to get Porithnas demons involved in this." Angel paused for a moment before adding, "Then have them attack you instead of me."

Spike's smirk grew. "So it is a jealousy thing! I knew it!" He laughed and swung his sword and dagger simultaneously, slashing through the air several times in quick succession. Four demons fell to the ground, but there were six more behind them, waiting for the path of attack to be clear. Spike barely managed to keep from groaning. "Just how many of these things are there?" he muttered to himself.

"No! I am not jealous!" Angel paused and Spike felt him move but couldn't spare a glance. He had his own problem at the time. Actually, problems. Six of them. All of them with huge swords and… quills? Spike blinked. Well, that wasn't something you saw every day. "I just think that if the Senior Partners were that desperate to use them, then you'd think they'd want them to attack me! After all, I am the one they've been up against for the past five years!" Spike blinked again, this time at Angel's tirade.

"Are you gonna be going on about this for much longer? Only I'm facing six things with quills and…" Spike swung his sword and frowned when it merely glanced off the armour of the creature in front of him. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh? I hate it when you say 'uh oh'. That was what you said that time in Denmark. We nearly got staked." Angel paused and the irritation in his voice shifted to concern. "Did you say 'quills'?"

"Uh… yeah…" Spike didn't have much attention to spare for the conversation. He barely managed to dodge one of the creature's sword thrusts. These things were fast. Much faster than what he'd been dealing with so far. He remembered thinking at one point that the battle was going pretty well. Spike had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Hey Angel, I think we've been set up."

"If the guys with quills also have impenetrable armour and long furry snouts, then we have been."

"Yeah. They do. You know these guys?" Suddenly, it was all Spike could do to keep himself out of the range of the more serious sword blows. It was as if the demons had been toying with him up until then.

"Only by reputation. Knashifesh demons. They're born strategists. When they're involved in a battle, they like to stay at the back and watch the fighting until they know their opponent's moves. Then, when they think their opponents are starting to tire, they step in and finish off the fight."

"Oh. Great. Reputation only, huh? So you've never actually fought one before?" Spike ducked another blow, but in doing so moved straight into the path of two others. He barely kept from crying out as his arm and shoulder were badly wounded.

"No. But I heard a rumour that their snouts were their weak points. Oh, and they're supposed to be weak against water in some way. Not sure of the details though."

"Well, lot of good that does us then." Spike sighed and looked thoughtfully at the creatures moving in around him. "So, snouts it is!"

He put all his strength and skill behind the blow, and managed to land a good solid strike directly across the fur-covered snout of the largest creature opposing him. The Knashifesh demon, who looked rather like an eight foot cross between an anteater and a porcupine, with dark grey scale armour covering his head, chest and lower body, snarled and lunged forward, catching Spike's arm in his powerful jaws. The vampire yelled out in shock as he felt the creature's sharp fangs biting deeply into his flesh. "Ow! Let go, you blasted thing! That hurts!"

His other hand moved quickly, his dagger slashing at the demon. Spike was in a bad position and he couldn't put much strength behind the attack, so he was startled when the creature gave a gurgling sigh and collapsed on the ground in front of him. The other Knashifesh demons were apparently just as surprised, because they immediately paused in their attacks before retreating a few steps. It was as though they were suddenly afraid of Spike. He didn't mind the break. It gave him a chance to study the creature he'd just killed.

"For the record, mate, it's not the snout that's their weakness. It's the patches of bare skin on the sides of their necks!" He had barely finished speaking before the other five demons charged him.

"Oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, you're right. The snout thing is for Kaldelesk demons. It's an easy mistake to make. Sorry about that."

"Angel… remind me to kill you if we get out of this."

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To be continued…


	4. The Gathering Begins

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. The song "What You Feel" is also by Joss Whedon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 1: Text in _italics_ is being sung. If you recognise the singer, then you'll probably know the tune. I may do up a song file at some point. The words are mine except for two lines, which are altered versions of the originals.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: The mention of Wes in the first paragraph is intentional. At this point in time, as far as Lorne knows, Wes is fighting with the others.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 4: The Gathering Begins  
By Shadow's Mirror

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"Looks like the party's started without us." Lorne peered down at the action from one of the rooftops overlooking the battleground. Somewhere amidst the chaos, he knew that Angel, Spike, Wes, Gunn and Illyria were fighting.

His hooded companion came to stand beside him. She studied the scene far below them for a moment before nodding. "Yes, although it has not been going on long. We had best get started. There is little time left to us." She began to reach into her cloak. "Your friends are already beginning to tire."

Lorne had seen the others face bad odds before, but nothing like this. He knew that they were good fighters, but even so… Being from a warrior race, he knew all too well how draining a battle could be, and this battle was on a scale of nothing he had seen before. He looked up at his companion, certain she could see the fear that he was trying his hardest to hide. "At the risk of sounding like a scared little demon, are you sure this will work?"

She turned and smiled at him. Even before she spoke, Lorne's fear began to ease. "Yes. I am sure. This is not the first time I have done this." She looked away and Lorne had the sudden feeling that she was no longer entirely with him, but lost in her memories of another time and place. "There are some tragedies that are too much even for me to bear." Her voice was so soft it could barely be heard.

Shaking her had as if to clear it of her memories, she moved back from the roof edge. "But enough talk of history! Come, Lorne. We must begin the gathering."

Lorne joined her, suddenly uneasy. "Uh… If you don't mind my asking, who, or what, are we 'gathering'? I thought we were just gatecrashing their party." He pointed to the battleground. "If I'd known we were throwing one of our own, I would have brought dip."

A light laugh trilled through the air. "Do not fear, my friend. What must be done here tonight will take more than the two of us to do, therefore we must call others to lend their powers to our cause. To stop this war will take a spell as powerful as it is ancient. It is written not as a chant, but as a song, and only those with both music and magic in their blood may cast it. It might surprise you to learn that there are not all that many of us so gifted. The spell requires the power of five. Us two, and three others."

Lorne nodded slowly, determination flooding him. Whatever it took, he was ready, willing and able to see it through! Despite what he'd told Angel earlier, the truth was that he wasn't ready to give up on his friends so easily. "So, who's coming to this little shindig? Anyone I know?"

His companion smiled. "I doubt it, however it is possible. The first is a demon. In his realm, he is king and he is not known for his compassion or goodness, so I do not believe it will be a simple matter to convince him. But if we can, his power will aid us immeasurably."

Lorne whistled. "He's that strong, huh?"

"Yes. Like you, he has the power to read the souls and hearts of those who sing in his presence. However, his true power is that he can bring song to all around him. Literally. When he is near, song and dance is everywhere. Ordinary people will be doing ordinary things one moment and the next there will be music and lights and then… They will sing, they will dance and when it is over, they will wonder what happened and try to pretend that it was nothing."

"Well, he sounds like the life of the party. What's the catch?" Lorne knew there had to be one. Someone who could bring music to people like that… but she had said that he wasn't good.

"Sometimes, the music becomes too much. The people become unable to stop dancing. They use up so much of their life energy that it kills them. Song, dance, death… it is all entertainment for him."

Lorne swallowed hard. "I take back what I said about him. Obviously 'life' wasn't the best choice of words."

As they had been speaking, the woman had been making her preparations. She had carefully sprinkled some sort of powder on the ground; forming two circles about three feet wide and six feet apart. Now, she stepped into one of them, being careful not to let the hem of her cloak disturb the circle as she did so. She held up one hand and Lorne could see that she was holding some sort of amulet. It looked old and worn and the chain was gold that had tarnished almost to black. Closing her eyes, she began to sing.

Lorne looked on in silent awe as her power surged in almost physical waves through the air around them. He could feel it, taste it, smell it. The magic of the song was almost intoxicatingly beautiful. It wasn't until the singing stopped that Lorne realised he had closed his eyes at some point. When he opened them, he gasped. There was a red demon in a stylish blue suit standing in the second circle.

"I have summoned you here…" Before the woman could say another word, the demon held up one hand. The next thing Lorne knew, there was a catchy jazz beat echoing in the air.

_"There's no need to say it.   
I know why you've called me.   
I felt the power.   
You might as well set me free.  
You called me and I came a-runnin'.  
You've got chaos, time to bring some fun in.  
So what are we waiting for? Let's interrupt this party.  
'Cause I know how you need me girl,   
And I'm ready to give this spell a whirl.  
This has nothing to do with what's right or wrong,  
This is destiny and I'm just riding along.  
'Cause I saw something inside that boy's heart.  
Now it's time for me to play my part.  
So let's get in and do it, let's sing this song!"_

The song demon, Sweet, smiled in amusement at the startled pair standing before him. "What's the matter? You never heard a demon sing jazz before?"

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To be continued…


	5. Destiny and Prophecy

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is a line in this chapter, 'One of their threads is almost ready to be cut.' This refers to an ancient Greek legend about the Fates, three sisters who governed life and death. Clotho spun the thread of life, Lachesis measured it and Atropos cut it.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 5: Destiny and Prophecy  
By Shadow's Mirror

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The demon's question hung in the air for a moment before Lorne suddenly grinned. "My friend, I've heard all kinds of demons sing all kinds of music. It was the invisible jazz ensemble that took me by surprise." Sweet laughed, then turned his attention to the hooded woman as she spoke.

"I am surprised at your willingness to aid us in our cause. From what I know of you, I would have thought this sort of chaos would be entertaining for you." There was no judgment or suspicion in our tone, only curiosity.

Sweet shook his head. "I enjoy chaos as much as the next demon, but I like my bloodbaths to be a little more Broadway-inclined. To me, watching swordplay is boring, but watching a song and dance number while people swing swords around… now that's entertainment!" His smile suddenly faded. "Seriously, I happen to have an interest in this affair. You see, one of the players in this little drama is an old friend of mine. The last time we met, he snatched the Slayer out from under my nose. Literally. I had her right where I wanted her. She was dancing her life away. Then he stepped in and did something extraordinary. For one of his kind, anyway." Sweet grinned wryly. "He saved her."

The hooded figure sounded slightly amused. "I see. He intrigued you."

"More than that." Sweet frowned slightly as he remembered back to that night. "Everyone my power touches, their minds and hearts are open to me. Normally, all I can see is the present and the past. But something happened that night that I wasn't expecting. When he sang, I felt the urge to sing too and as I did… I heard his destiny. I have to say, I was impressed. But as it turns out, I have a part to play in it. Now I might risk Lady Luck's wrath from time to time, but there's no way I'm messing with the Fates. I've known too many others who have."

"You saw this battle in his destiny?" The women's voice sounded troubled.

"Not exactly." Sweet turned. From where he was standing, he could see over the edge of the building. As he looked down on the battlefield, a shudder ran through his body. "No, I definitely didn't see this coming. I didn't get a visual. It was just a feeling. I knew I was involved in his future, but there was nothing to tell me when, where or why. All I got was the impression of two paths, one leading to chaos and the other… to destiny."

He turned to look at the woman who had summoned him, all traces of amusement gone as he continued to speak. "Something's gone wrong. I can feel it. Someone's trying to interrupt the flow of Fate. Someone with a lot of power behind them. This battle… maybe it should have happened, maybe not, but here and now… All I know is, those kids out there aren't supposed to die today, but if this scene is left to play itself out… The odd are against them."

The hooded figure nodded. Her voice was calm again when she replied. "Yes. That is why we are here." She raised one hand but then hesitated. "You understand what must be done? The spell requires the power of five. You are willing to be one of us?"

Sweet nodded. "I am."

She glanced at Lorne, who also nodded. He'd known Sweet was on their side from the moment he'd heard the demon sing. He'd also known that if they had met while he was still working in Wolfram and Hart's Entertainment Division, then he could have easily gotten the guy a gig working Vegas.

"Then I release you from the binding circle." Her hand glowed, a brief flash of light, and the circle Sweet was standing in did likewise. Then it was gone. The demon smiled slightly as he sauntered over to her and Lorne.

"You always have had a thing for the dramatic. I like that." Winking at the woman, he turned and eyed Lorne up and down for a moment before grinning at him. "Nice suit. Pylean, right?"

"I am, but the suit's native." Lorne smiled slightly, the little joke doing a lot to ease his tension. All the discussion about Fate and death had disturbed him.

"It is time to summon the remaining two."

The two demons turned at the woman's voice, both immediately becoming serious again. "So, who's next on the invitation list?" Lorne asked quietly.

"They are in the same place, more or less, therefore I can call them both at once. I know they will come, for this is not the first time they have aided me with this particular spell." As she spoke, the woman began to draw a complicated diagram in what looked, and smelled, like sea salt.

"The first of them is a daughter of the Sirens. Her voice is her magic and she can cast any spell merely by singing it. She has devoted her life to protecting the weak, defending the innocent and avenging those who cannot avenge themselves. To her friends and companions, she is Marina Blade. To those who are unfortunate enough to incur her wrath… she is Nemesis."

"Catchy name," Lorne commented. Sweet chuckled in agreement. "So who's our last party guest?"

"His name is Briarley Haven. He is a vampire." The women waited a moment for the two demons to get over their shock. "But no ordinary vampire. When he lived, he was son and apprentice to a very powerful mage. In fact, this mage was so powerful that he was able to cast a spell that protected his son from the usual fate that befalls those claimed by the Children of the Night. At the moment of his turning, he was given a choice. Surrender to the darkness or embrace the light. No one expected him to choose both. He was turned, but he uses his power for good, not evil. As vampires go, he is older than most and his powers are formidable because of it. His specialty is song-spells. The spell we must cast tonight is one that he is particularly gifted in. Indeed, he has cast it more times than I have."

Her design complete, the woman stepped back from it. She glanced at her two companions. "It is time." They nodded and she raised her hands. She was about to speak when a voice suddenly spoke up from somewhere nearby. It was low, slightly husky, more than a little musical and definitely female.

"There's no need to call us. We're already here."

Lorne jumped and whirled at the voice, staring around in shock. Sweet's reaction was similar and even the hooded women was startled. "How…?"

Two figures stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the roof.

The first was a woman. Nemesis looked to be in her early twenties and was tall and slender with hair that fell in waves of rippling black silk to below her waist and large sea-green eyes that seemed to shine faintly silver in the moonlight. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but there was a coolness to her calm gaze that made the term 'ice maiden' flash through Lorne's mind. Or it could have been her outfit. The form-fitting black leggings, tunic and knee-high boots were a definite fashion statement… for a ninja. Or a cat burglar. Lorne blinked at the large mist-grey cat that the second figure was holding. The cat blinked back at him. Yes, cat burglar did seem more appropriate in this case.

The second figure was even more surprising. His companion's description had left Lorne with a mental image of a powerful young man rather like Angel, but with maybe a little less broodiness and more of Spike's 'bring it on so I can smash it' attitude. Instead, Briarley turned out to have the form of a human boy of around eighteen. He was several inches shorter than Nemesis, with a slender but lightly muscled build. His hair was as black as midnight and his gleaming silver eyes hinted at his being more than human, but his outfit was something an ordinary teenager might wear. Black jeans teamed with a dark blue T-shirt, black leather jacket and black sneakers. Lorne was suddenly glad that the other demon was also in a brightly coloured suit. Otherwise, he would have felt horribly overdressed.

The hooded woman shook her head. "I might have known that you would be aware of the situation. No doubt Prophecy brought you here tonight." Much to Lorne's surprise, she nodded to the cat in Briarley's arms. Even more surprisingly, the cat nodded back. "I take it that you are prepared to aid us in our cause?"

Briarley nodded. "Of course." His voice had a soft English accent.

"Yet you waited until after I had drawn the summoning charm." The woman folded her arms, her voice revealing her amusement.

"Well, you were introducing us at the same time. We felt it would be rude of us to interrupt." Nemesis smirked as she strode forward. She glanced over Lorne and Sweet and seemed to make up her mind that they were on the same side because she smiled at them both before turning to the hooded woman.

"Not to be rude, but if we're going to save all of them, we'd better get started. One of their threads is almost ready to be cut." Her words made the woman freeze for a moment before she nodded.

"You are right. Let us begin." With a swift wave of her hand, the mystical design vanished. She gestured for her companions to draw nearer. "Come, join with me in a circle of song, so that our magic may rise in chorus."

.

To be continued…


	6. The Song of Time

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains **major spoilers** from the final episode of Angel.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 6: The Song of Time  
By Shadow's Mirror

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The five figures on the rooftop moved into a circle. The atmosphere became tense as their moods shifted and they focused on what they were there to do.

The hooded woman raised her head and began to sing, her beautiful voice filling the air with magic so powerful that it could almost be felt, tasted, smelt and seen, not only heard. The song was wordless. The tune, an ever shifting cascade of notes and rhythms that seemed almost impossible to follow. But that was part of its magic. Within moments, the vampire and the siren had joined the song, their voices rising in perfect counterpoint and entwining effortlessly with the woman's. It took a moment more for the spell to catch Sweet, but then his voice also rose into the clear night air.

As the magic surged through the music, Lorne found himself spellbound. He wanted to sing, but his voice was stolen by the mix of beauty, awe and magic swirling within and around him. As his own gift kicked in, images began flooding his mind more rapidly than he could ever hope to follow. Gasping at the unexpected assault on his senses, Lorne closed his eyes and tried desperately to focus on the song and what he needed to do.

Suddenly, everything went still and quiet. The music was still there, but now it seemed to be coming from a great distance. Confused, Lorne opened his eyes again. It didn't help. In fact, the sight that greeted him only succeeded in making him even more bewildered.

He wasn't on the rooftop anymore. Actually, Lorne had the feeling that he wasn't even in L.A. anymore! He was standing in the middle of a grassy plain, with nothing but green grass stretching out as far as the eye could see in every direction. Except one. Right in front of him lay the only other thing in sight.

It was a river. Lorne could tell that it was no ordinary river though. The deep blue colour and crystal clearness of the water hinted at it having mystical qualities, but what really gave it away was the song it was singing as it ran merrily by. Lorne knew what he was looking at as soon as he heard its voice.

The song of the River of Time was unmistakable.

Lorne took the few steps needed to reach the river's bank. He gazed into the water, unsure of why he was there or what he was supposed to do, but knowing beyond any doubt that this was where he was meant to be. The magical song being carried on the breeze called to him and his power responded to it, just as it responded to the voice of the river. As he gazed into its clear blue heart, the river began to glow with a soft silvery light and images began to form in the air above it.

At first, it was just a jumble of images from a long-forgotten past, but then the scene became more familiar. At least, it was familiar to Lorne because he'd seen it before. It was the same place, the same people, that he glimpsed on the (thankfully) rare occasions when he heard Angel sing.

Sunnydale.

Lorne watched in silence as a blonde girl danced in front of the stage where the demon from the rooftop, Sweet, was standing. One moment she was dancing as though she was out of control, but then Spike simply stepped in and caught her, stopping her movements. Lorne realised then what he was seeing. This was the moment that Sweet had been talking about when he had first appeared. The moment when Spike had done something completely out of character for one of his kind.

A vampire had saved a Slayer. It was unheard of! It was preposterous! It wasn't the first time it had happened. Lorne grinned. Trust Spike and Angel to both have done the unthinkable.

The scene in the image shifted again and Lorne frowned slightly as he tried to work out what he was seeing. It looked like a dark alley, but there were none of the garbage bins or piles of litter that he was used to seeing in such places. Then a man stumbled into view. He was dressed in clothes that had been the height of fashion in England back in the days of Queen Victoria. Lorne nodded to himself. This was probably a scene from Briarley's past. He was surely old enough to have existed back then.

Mist began creeping into view and Lorne frowned again. It seemed to be spreading rather quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly. It had to be magic. When a figure stepped out of the swirling mist, Lorne knew his original guess had been mistaken. Briarley wasn't the one standing there. It was Nemesis!

Lorne could see her speaking, but he couldn't hear a sound. Whatever she was saying though, the Siren's words had an impressive effect on the man. Within moments, he was down on his knees, apparently begging for mercy. The look of smug satisfaction on Nemesis's face was more than a little disconcerting. Lorne was glad when the image shifted again.

A large house was on fire. Smoke billowed from the windows, accompanied by licking flames and sparks that soon had the outside of the building smoldering as well. The front door of the house was a blazing inferno, but suddenly a figure burst through the flames! Briarley ran out of the fire, slightly singed but apparently otherwise unharmed. He was carrying a large black bundle. The vampire looked back at the fire for a moment then turned away; pain and sorrow clear on his face. He knelt down, carefully unwrapping the bundle he had brought safely out of the burning house. When he was done he smiled down at the small face looking up at him. His black jacket had apparently been an effective shield against the heat, for the mist-grey cat that had been wrapped in it seemed to be unharmed.

Before Lorne could make out anything more, the scene changed again and his heart began to thump. He knew this scene. He had lived through it earlier that night. As the gun was raised, Lorne heard the shot ring out through his mind. He shuddered, but kept watching. The scene would be played out soon.

When the image began to fade a few minutes later, Lorne sighed with relief. His sigh quickly became a gasp though as new images began to flash rapidly in the air over the river. These images were more recent. In fact, they had all happened at the same time as the scene from Lorne's past!

Lorne watched in silent shock as he saw for the first time exactly what had happened that night. Angel, Spike, Gunn and Illyria came as no revelation, but then Wesley's scene began.

As he learned of his friend's fate, Lorne sank to his knees, stunned and grieving. As much as he hated to admit it to himself though, he couldn't feel surprised by what had happened.

Ever since Fred's death, Lorne had sensed that Wesley would not take long to follow her. The ex-Watcher had been living a sort of half-life since that dreadful night. His obsession with Illyria had not been good for him and, ultimately, it would have been sure to have cost him his sanity. In fact, there had been times when Lorne had wondered if that price had not already been paid.

He didn't have long to linger on such thoughts. The images continued to shift and Lorne stirred when he realised what they were now showing. Determination flooded through him and he hauled himself to his feet again, his ruby eyes gleaming as he studied the battle between his friends and the forces summoned by the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart. Things weren't looking good.

As he watched his friends fight, horribly outnumbered by their enemies, Lorne felt incredibly frustrated. He wanted to help them, but he had no idea how. The song-spell had apparently gone… exactly as intended!

Lorne's eyes widened as the music in the air became louder, its message suddenly clear. The song-spell began to mix with the music of the river and, as the two tunes entwined, the images began to slow down. But that wasn't all. As the two songs became one, Lorne's gift spoke to him. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he had to do.

It was time to save his friends.

With his gaze fixed on the images shimmering in the air above the River of Time, Lorne began to sing.

.

To be continued…


	7. For a Single Heartbeat

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains **major spoilers** from the final episode of Angel. There is also some violence.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 7: For A Single Heartbeat  
By Shadow's Mirror

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Lorne's voice rose into the air with all his heart, soul and gift lending it power. His song wove around the combined music of the River of Time and the four spell-singers on the L.A. rooftop with apparent ease. Only Lorne knew how much effort it took for him to keep singing as his power touched the awesome magics that had been gathered. For a moment he thought his voice would fail him. Such power… He had never felt anything like it before. Fear flooded through him but he ignored it, focusing instead on the memories of his friends. When his voice suddenly merged with the rest of the music, he knew he had found the key to the spell.

As Lorne sang, he kept his gaze locked on the images shimmering in the air above the river, but his mind was focused on the music and what it was telling him. It wasn't all good news. Apparently, he would have only one chance to do what he had to do. If he messed up, there would be no way to save his friends from the fate planned for them by the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart.

He didn't know how long he stood there singing, watching the battle progress on the aerial screen in front of him. It was probably only a few minutes. It seemed like hours. Then he felt it coming. A shift in the music that he instinctively knew meant the moment he had been waiting for was approaching. Then… it was there! It was now or never!

Lorne gave it everything he had. Suddenly, his was the tune that the rest of the music followed. His voice rang out, overwhelming the song not just with its strength, but with the power that pulsed through it. Power that stunned the very air around him into silent stillness.

Power enough to make the River of Time stop running.

It lasted for no longer than a single heartbeat. Then the river resumed its flow as though it had never been interrupted and Lorne sank to his knees on the riverbank, his magic and energy drained like never before. Even as he panted for breath though, his ruby eyes remained locked on the scenes playing out above the flowing water.

- - -

The battle had never been going in their favour, but they'd somehow managed to keep themselves alive for almost ten minutes. Considering what they were up against, that was nothing short of incredible. But now it looked like their luck was beginning to run out.

- - -

Spike had learned the weakness of the demons attacking him, but with them knowing that he knew, it wasn't helping him much. Skilled fighters, they knew how to keep their weak points protected when they had to. Still, Spike was no slouch in the fighting department either. He'd managed to take out three of the five creatures, but it had come at a high cost. One of them he'd only managed to kill because it had dropped its guard as it lunged for him. He'd had to make a split-second decision whether to defend himself or attack. He'd chosen to attack. Now the creature lay dead on the ground before him, but it's sword strike had left Spike's left arm numb and useless.

Wincing in pain, he tried to keep going but he was all too well aware that his movements were beginning to slow. He couldn't keep fighting much longer. Not with the same intensity. Even his quips had stopped. When the remaining two creatures were suddenly joined by five more, he was moved to speech though. His curse filled the air, mingling with their battle cries as they charged towards him.

- - -

Angel still fought at Spike's back, but his movements had also slowed considerably and he too was now concentrating on the battle rather than wasting his strength talking. During a momentary lull in the fighting, as his opponents had been forced to literally stop and clear a path to get to him, Angel had managed to pull out the sword that one of his previous opponents had pierced him with. He'd been about to throw it away when he'd noticed what a good sword it was. Shrugging to himself, he'd kept hold of it. Since then, it had saved his unlife more than once, as had Spike's earlier comment on the weakness of the Knashifesh demons.

If Angel hadn't known where to strike, the eight Knashifesh who had stepped up to face him would have been a definite problem. As it was, there was a very good chance that they might kill him yet. He'd taken out four of them, but the others were wary now and they were taking great care to keep their necks protected. When they began to charge him together, he knew he was in trouble. Tightening his hold on his sword, Angel prepared to defend and retaliate.

- - -

A short distance from where the two ensouled vampires were fighting, another ancient creature fought the demon hordes that the Senior Partners had dared to send against her.

Illyria's battle cry rang through the night air, overwhelming the sounds of battle almost as effortlessly as it had in ages long past. Also as in those lost times, the mere sound made her opponents cringe with fear. Unfortunately, that was all they did. Illyria scowled as the fools continued to attack her. There had been a time when she had been able to send such creatures into the depths of madness with her voice alone. Apparently that was yet another of the powers that had been taken from her.

She was distracted from her musings as the six trolls that she was facing suddenly moved back. Illyria noted the looks of satisfaction on their faces and a strange feeling raced up her spine. Before she could put a name to it, four large creatures with long furry snouts, quills and iron grey armour charged towards her. She parried their attacks with ease and returned them, taking out two with swift strikes to their unprotected necks. Illyria knew these demons, and their weakness was laughable. They were nothing to her. She had ruled while their kind was still evolving up from the primordial ooze.

Illyria did not pause to wonder why only four of the creatures had attacked her when their intelligence would have made them realise that so few would never be enough. She charged forward, raising her sword to strike. The movement off to her right came almost too quickly for her to register it before she felt the blade sink its sharp teeth into her side. She glared at the two smirking pieces of bait and lashed out, anger making her movements swift and precise despite the agony that the motion caused her. It was her turn to smile as the two fools fell to the ground, but her smile was grim and tinged with irony.

The lure-and-strike had been around since even before her! To think that one such as she, who had once ruled over such pitiful creatures as these, should have been tricked in such a way! It was insulting! It was humiliating! It was not something that she would forgive. She turned her attention to the one who had dared strike her, but as she turned she did the unthinkable.

Illyria stumbled.

Her sudden weakness shocked her, but when she glanced down at the sword sticking out of her side she understood. It was a weapon almost as ancient as she was. One that had been forged for one reason, and one reason alone.

To destroy her kind.

For only the third time in her incredibly long life, Illyria knew fear.

- - -

Gunn ducked out of the path of the oncoming sword and winced as almost every part of his body reminded him that he was going to die that night. Not that it was a surprise. He'd known it from the beginning. As soon as Angel had told them about his plan and he'd agreed to be part of it.

Like Angel and the others, Gunn's year at Wolfram and Hart had given him considerable knowledge about the true extent of their power. You didn't mess with that kind of power and expect to live through it. What they'd done earlier in the night had been the equivalent of hitting Illyria with a waterbomb. It would irritate her enough for her to seek revenge, but it did nothing more than make her mildly uncomfortable for the time it took her to dry off.

Unfortunately, the Senior Partners' idea of 'revenge' was annihilation with a large side order of pain.

Gunn glanced around, making a note of his adversaries. He was facing three trolls whose faces would stop traffic (and not in a good way), two eight foot anteater/porcupine thingies and something that bore a striking resemblance to a Chihuahua except that it was dark green and had glowing yellow eyes. As his opponents began to close in on him, Gunn tightened his hold on his sword and prepared to fight.

He knew he was going to die, but he was determined to take at least a few of these things down with him! Deciding to go for the most dangerous-looking of his opponents first, Gunn struck out towards the dark green Chihuahua.

- - -

Perhaps it was part of the song-spell, or perhaps it was merely a quirk of Destiny that caused all four of the champions' fates to reach such climactic points in their battles at the same moment in time. Whatever the cause, the moment came… and time stopped for a single heartbeat.

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To be continued…


	8. The Tide is Turned

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains **major spoilers** from the final episode of Angel. There is also some violence.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 8: The Tide is Turned  
By Shadow's Mirror

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A single heartbeat of time. Such a little thing, seemingly unimportant, yet four lives depended on it.

In the heart of the battle, Spike, Angel, Illyria and Gunn all reached a pivotal moment in their destinies at precisely the same instant. For that moment, their fates hung in the balance, teetering between life and death. But then something happened. That instant in time… froze. It lasted for only as long as it took a human heart to beat, but when time resumed its normal course… Nothing was the same.

- - -

Spike tried to bring up his sword to defend himself against the oncoming demons but his strength was almost gone and his arm refused to obey. He growled, refusing to close his eyes and cringe from the ones who brought him what he had thought he had earned the year before. Death. Their swords plunged towards him and he smirked.

Then everything, the oncoming demons, the constant motion all around him, even the sounds of battle, simply stopped.

Before Spike could even blink, there was a brilliant flash of light somewhere behind him. The air filled with music and Spike was so astonished that he barely noticed when someone caught his arm. Then time began again. In the confusing rush of movement and sound, Spike gasped as he was pulled out of the path of the blades. The force of the tug made him stumble, but as soon as he caught himself his head snapped up to see who had saved him. He blinked in shock at the grinning, and all-too-familiar, red demon in the snazzy blue suit who stood at his side and said the first thing that came to mind.

"If Angel starts to sing, I'm staking myself."

- - -

Angel managed to take out one of the four Knashifesh demons as they charged him, but in focusing on one he'd left himself open to the others' attacks. His face started to morph into vampire mode but he stopped it. The change would have given him extra strength and speed, but there was still no way that he'd be able to avoid all three of the swords coming at him. He was about to die. Angel was determined that he would go out wearing his own face and not that of the demon within him.

Then time froze and the air was filled with a song so powerful that Angel could almost taste it.

Even as Angel noticed the song, there was a brilliant flash of light off to his left and someone grabbed his arm. He was still turning to look when the flow of time returned to normal. Everything happened so quickly then that all Angel could do was gasp as whoever had hold of him pulled him out of the way of the oncoming demons. He collided with his rescuer and blinked down in surprise at the dark haired teenage boy. Deep in his mind, a spark of memory flickered into life, but it wasn't until the boy glanced at him with odd silver eyes that the mental spark became a flame.

"Hey, I know you. Paris, 1793. You threw a net over me and helped my dinner escape."

- - -

Illyria stared down in shock at the sword protruding from her side, then looked up into the eyes of the demon who had dared to wield the ancient weapon against her. He was humanoid, tall and muscular with an appearance that Illyria might not have found displeasing under other circumstances. Since he was holding the twin to the sword he had just stabbed her with though, she currently thought him one of the vilest creatures to walk the miserable world. As she told him so, he merely laughed, revealing his sharp pointed teeth. Then he raised his sword. With the magic of the first sword draining her strength and power, Illyria could do nothing to stop him.

Oddly, Illyria felt nothing but relief at her approaching death. She hated the mortal world and the bag of flesh that she had been forced to wear. She had been stripped of her powers and, even worse in her eyes, she had been made to… feel.

Even as the sword flashed towards her, Illyria's mind insisted on conjuring up a mental image of the mortal whose death she had witnessed earlier that night. Again, the image brought with it pain and grief… along with the urge to hit something. Hard. She struggled against the binding magic of the sword in her side and gasped as she suddenly sensed something that she had not thought she would ever feel again.

Illyria had held time in her hands. She had been both its mistress and its slave, at different points in her long life. Although her control over it was now gone, she still retained her ability to sense when it shifted or stirred. Right now, it was stirring so much that she was faintly surprised that no one else seemed to sense it. When time suddenly froze, Illyria was not unprepared. But what happened in the moment that it was frozen still startled her.

An immense surge of power, in the form of an ancient song, filled the air as a burst of brilliant white light lit up the area as though it were day. Then a pair of hands grasped her upper arms and pulled her back in the same moment that time resumed its normal flow.

The swordsman's attack missed and Illyria took advantage of his momentary surprise to glance at the one holding her. For a moment, she thought the woman was mortal, but then she sensed the power lying beneath the illusion.

"You are a child of the sea. I do not know you. Why do you come to my aid?"

- - -

Gunn had been absolutely right. The green Chihuahua-like creature had been the most dangerous thing facing him. As soon as he'd stepped close, it had shape-shifted into the form of a massive two-headed bulldog the size of a large horse. Not only were its fangs long and pointed, but its breath was enough to overcome the stench of the three ogres standing beside it. One whiff and Gunn almost fell over.

"Whoa! Doggy, you need a breath mint!"

Unfortunately, the creature did not take kindly to the suggestion. Gunn managed to sink his sword into one of the creature's necks, but the other head immediately rounded on him. He literally stared death in the face. His only regret was that he was going to die with that stench being the last thing he ever smelled! Still, he didn't flinch as the massive jaws began to close in on his neck.

Time froze. The creature froze. All of the demons, trolls, ogres and assorted things around him froze. The sounds of battle became a chorus of voices and music more beautiful than any opera Gunn had in his Gilbert and Sullivan-enhanced mind. A brilliant light flashed at Gunn's side and a pair of slender, feminine hands latched onto his arm. Then time resumed its flow again.

The hands pulled Gunn out of the creature's path with surprising strength. As the creature growled in fury at its missed meal, Gunn risked a glance at his rescuer. He blinked and his glance became a stare.

"Not to be rude, but when I get saved by a hooded stranger in the middle of fighting for my life, I usually like to know the reason for it."

- - -

The sudden appearance of the four strangers on the battlefield had not gone unnoticed. Nor had the music that now filled the air. It was fainter than it had been at first but still easily heard, the power within it still easily felt. Confused and wary at their sense that the tide of battle had turned, the demonic hordes immediately retreated into a jostling, muttering circle around Angel, his friends and their unexpected allies. They then fell silent and watchful, as though waiting for some signal to resume the battle.

They had moved so fast that the four questions and comments directed at the newcomers echoed loudly in the sudden stillness. The watching circle listened closely, awaiting the responses just as eagerly as Angel and his friends.

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To be continued…


	9. Song of Destiny

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains **some spoilers** from the final episode of Angel. There is also some violence.

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A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 9: Song of Destiny  
By Shadow's Mirror

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"If Angel starts to sing, I'm staking myself."

"Hey, I know you. Paris, 1793. You threw a net over me and helped my dinner escape."

"You are a child of the sea. I do not know you. Why do you come to my aid?"

"Not to be rude, but when I get saved by a hooded stranger in the middle of fighting for my life, I usually like to know the reason for it."

Spike, Angel, Illyria and Gunn's voices sounded overly loud in the sudden stillness of the alley, making them aware that something was different. They looked around, their surprise obvious on their faces as they realised what had happened.

At some point, they had been maneuvered into a group with the four strangers positioned between them and the demons, who had all retreated to a wary distance with the astonishing speed of those with strong instincts for self-preservation. The demons watched the group intently, awaiting the answers from the newcomers as eagerly as the four champions. The silence was broken only by the sound of the teeming rain striking the concrete, and the soft music still lingering in the air.

The hooded woman smiled slightly at Gunn's question to her. She glanced at the demonic circle around them before returning her attention to the four bedraggled and exhausted warriors standing before her. Although her reply was given to Gunn, her soft voice effortlessly filled the alley so that no one present missed a single word.

"Long ago, the forces of darkness began to wage war on the forces of the light. But, being what they are, they chose to cloak their battles in silence and secrecy. When they act, they take care to keep themselves from being discovered. They are experts at making others appear to be the cause of chaos or trouble. Because of that, for many centuries the light has remained unaware that the final battle, the ultimate apocalypse, has already begun. Although it has become clear that the darkness over the world is spreading, its grasp tightening, there was never any sign of it being anything other than a normal shift in the balance between light and darkness. Such a thing is not unusual. It has happened many times before. One side becomes more powerful for a time and then the scales tip the other way. There was nothing to indicate that this was anything more than that. Until recently."

She turned slightly towards Angel, now directing her words at him. "There are those who have been watching you and your companions for some time now, but this past year has been of particular interest. When Wolfram and Hart gave you their offices here, there were many who were skeptical of their stated reasons for doing so. It was clear that they wanted you and your companions on their side. That caused us to wonder. The Senior Partners are not known for their eagerness, but there was no hesitation in what they did. Their actions suggested that they had a specific plan in mind for you. The more we watched, the more we learned, and finally… the more we understood."

Her voice rose just a little, as though she wanted to be sure that everyone could hear her. "Tonight you faced the darkness on their terms. You defeated them. Even though they will recover swiftly from what you did, in one way their defeat will be permanent… and costly."

The hooded woman suddenly whirled around to face the watching demons. Now, her words were directed at them. "Tonight, for the first time in countless years, the scale tipped and the balance between light and darkness, good and evil, was altered. Even though it was only for one bright and shining moment, that change did not go unnoticed. As we speak, the news is spreading. By dawn, all those of the light will know what has happened in this city tonight. For the first time in ages, they will know that the darkness is not invincible. And when that knowledge comes to them, they will regain in that moment something that the darkness has been slowly draining from them all this time. The one thing that the darkness has no defense against. The thing it fears most."

She paused for a moment, allowing the drama to build, then spoke a single word. "Hope."

A ripple of movement ran through the demonic horde at the word. More than a few of the demons paled and some looked as though they'd like to be anywhere except where they were. But the hooded woman wasn't finished yet. She took a slow step forward, then began to speak again.

"When news reached me of what had happened, I knew that the Senior Partners' vengeance would be swift. But I also suspected that, in their fury, they might overlook certain details. I was correct. They have done everything in their power to be sure of the outcome of this battle. They have brought in mercenaries, they have called in favours, they have written contracts… and they have neglected to consider the possibility that these four champions might not be alone in this battle any longer."

The demons stirred uneasily at that, but she ignored them and continued to speak. "The Senior Partners made a mistake. They tried to manipulate destiny. In doing so, their plans came to our attention. We were not pleased by what we learned. We decided to intervene. We have cast a spell. A very ancient, and incredibly powerful, spell. On the surface, the magic appears to have done nothing except bring the four of us into the battle. But that is just the beginning, I assure you."

She glanced around at the demons for a moment before continuing. "The spell is called the Song of Destiny. It freezes time. Only for a moment, but in that moment the fates of those for whom the song is being sung entwine with those of the singers. So their fates," she gestured at Angel, Spike, Illyria and Gunn, "are now one with ours," she indicated herself, Sweet, Nemesis and Briarley. "Our appearance at their sides was merely a side-effect of that, it was not the entire spell. But it does make it easier for us to destroy you all now."

"Bah! Enough talk! Your pathetic attempts at fooling us will not work!" One of the demons, the humanoid one who had been battling Illyria with his enchanted blades, stepped forward. His dark eyes flashed with fury as he snarled at the hooded figure. "I know magic. If the spell is truly that powerful, then it would have taken all of your combined strength to cast it! Meaning that you are now weak! If your fates are bound to theirs, that only makes it easier. If we kill you, we'll get rid of them too!" He started to move forward, raising his sword as he prepared to strike.

The hooded woman moved faster than any eye there could follow. Silver flashed through the air, followed by a bright burst of dark crimson. The warrior paused in mid-attack, a look of astonishment flashing across his face before it became blank and he fell to the ground. The watching demons shifted uneasily as the hooded woman calmly rested the tip of her sword on the ground in front of her.

"Would anyone else care to try that?" The amusement in her voice was a clear indicator of how foolish it would be to respond, but if there had been any doubt it would surely have been erased by the sight of the sword in her hand. It was a fine weapon, obviously forged with great skill, but the runes inscribed on the blade and the faintly pulsing jewels on its hilt indicated that it was far more than that. It was a weapon of great magic. It also appeared to be singing softly to itself.

From somewhere towards the back of the demonic horde, there was a burst of light. The next moment, a fireball came blazing down the alley, causing the startled demons in its path to duck out of the way, except for a few who decided that diving for cover was the better option. A burst of song came from towards the back of the group, where Nemesis was standing, and the fireball suddenly halted in its flight. The demons eyed it warily. When it spun around and shot back they way it had come, quite a few didn't need to duck because they hadn't bothered getting up after the first time it had gone over.

As a loud yell came from the singed mage who had just received the full effects of his own spell, Nemesis smirked. "Serves him right for trying it. A fireball… my, how very unoriginal."

Sweet studied a group of demons nearby. They were tense and looked as though they were thinking about doing something really stupid. Like attacking. "Would you boys prefer to do a ballad or something more upbeat? I'm into jazz myself, but I do take requests." He smiled at them and they quickly edged away, looking very nervous. Apparently they'd heard of him. His smile widened.

"So… it seems that you do still have strength enough to fight, even after casting your spell. This should be an interesting battle." The gruff voice came from off to the right. One of the Knashifesh demons stepped forward, his dark eyes gleaming as his hands tightened on his sword.

"There will be no more fighting. Not tonight. This battle is over."

The voice was female and accented with a soft Irish lilt. It also seemed to be coming from somewhere up above the main group of demons. Everyone looked up. Then everyone stared in disbelief.

Spike finally broke the silence. "Well… a talking cat floating in a bubble. You don't see that every night."

The large bubble floated gently down, carrying its mist-grey passenger safely to the ground in front of the hooded woman. It shimmered and vanished. The cat hissed as the rain immediately drenched her fur. "Ooh! That's cold!" She sighed and muttered, "Honestly, the things I do for him." She glared around at the watching demons, obviously not happy about being out in the rain.

"Now listen up! The sooner we get this sorted out, the sooner we can all get back to our nice dry homes. You are all here for one reason. You were contracted by Wolfram and Hart's Senior Partners to destroy Angel, Spike, Illyria and Gunn. Am I correct?" She didn't wait for an answer. "If you have a look at your contracts, I think you will find that they are all missing something rather important." Her emerald-green eyes flashed. "A signature! Without that signature, those contracts are meaningless. Pieces of parchment, nothing more. Which means, that Wolfram and Hart are not obliged to honour the terms of payment written on them!"

The demons started muttering to each other. More than a few sneeked quick looks at pieces of paper that they pulled from pockets, wallets and, in the case of three hags off to one side of the group, handbags. From their glares and looks of shock, it seemed that the cat was not lying. Still, judging by the suspicion on most of the demons' faces, it also seemed that they weren't convinced that it wasn't some sort of trick.

"You are faced with a choice. You can leave this place now and live. Or you can remain here and die. With the contracts unsigned, you are under no obligation to fight. If you attack, you will be defeated and you will fall here, never to rise again. Even if you do somehow manage to survive, Wolfram and Hart will only refuse to pay..." The cat suddenly stopped speaking, her entire body going tense as her eyes closed and her head tilted as though she was listening to something that only she could hear.

The air in the alley suddenly tingled with energy, strong enough to be felt by everyone there.

"The wyrm shall fall from the sky and crush the foolish ones who fight on. The light shall win the battle and the heavens shall cease to weep. The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart will go on, but the light will shine ever brighter against them. Vengeance can be sought but once, before it turns back on itself."

The cat finished speaking and for a long moment, the only sound was the splash of the falling rain that showed no signs of easing. She opened her eyes and looked up, blinking at the demons staring at her.

"What? Anyone would think you had never seen a prophetic cat before…" She sniffed disdainfully and then looked up, eyeing the sky thoughtfully. The rain was coming down too hard to see clearly, but every now and then the dragon's cry made it clear that it was still up there, waiting for its chance to attack. "If I were you, I would make my decision swiftly. My words will soon come to pass."

The demons began to mutter urgently amongst themselves. The minutes ticked by without an attack as they continued to argue with each other. The general consensus seemed to be that things had become too uncertain to continue the fight. It was one thing to be contracted to kill two vampires, a human and a… whatever the blue-haired woman was. It was quite another to be expected to fight an additional four beings with unknown, but apparently powerful, magic and a talking cat who warned them of non-payment of their contracts and then threatened them with a falling dragon!

Finally, some of the smarter demons began to withdraw. They looked rather uncertain about it though and the others jeered at them for being cowards. When a loud screech rang from above and the dragon came plunging from the sky and fell on top of the jeering demons though, the rest of the demonic horde quickly retreated from the battle also. In fact, the term 'scurried' could have been applied to more than a few of them. Within moments, the alley was empty except for the nine figures grouped together.

Angel blinked. "That was… strangely anti-climactic." Spike nodded in agreement.

The hooded woman raised her head. "Listen." Everyone suddenly noticed how silent it was. The rain had stopped. As had the faint music that had been playing the entire time. "Briarley, catch him."

Before anyone could ask what she was talking about, Gunn groaned and collapsed, only Briarley's quick instincts preventing him from hitting the ground.

Spike glanced at Angel. "Looks like you spoke too soon, mate."

.

To be continued…


	10. Come the Dawn

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains **some spoilers** from the final episode of Angel. There is also one instance of swearing. ::sighs and points to Spike:: Blame him. He insisted that it would be out of character for him to go through an entire story without a single swear word. I did manage to talk him into keeping it fairly mild though.

****

A Promise of Tomorrow  
Chapter 10: Come the Dawn  
By Shadow's Mirror

The darkness became light. Then colour. Then shapes. Familiar shapes.

"Either I'm not dead, or Hell looks an awful lot like the Hyperion."

A soft chuckle nearby made Gunn turn his head, instinctively seeking the source of the unfamiliar sound. He immediately realised his mistake and tensed in expectation of the pain he was certain he'd feel. He blinked when the pain did not come. "Huh?"

Gunn stared at the stranger sitting on the floor beside the couch that he was lying on. The familiar couch that he'd sat on many times back when the group had worked out of the old hotel. "Who are you? What happened? Where are the others? Am I dead or not?"

"Not quite, mate. You were close, but." Spike's familiar accent made Gunn sigh in relief.

"I never thought I'd actually be glad to hear your voice." He looked over, his grin fading as he got a good look at the blonde vampire leaning against the wall on the other side of the lobby. "Man, Spike… You look like something the cat dragged in! After it had chewed on it for a while." Gunn thought he heard someone mutter 'Oh please, I have more taste than that!' but he dismissed it as his imagination.

Spike shook his head and grinned. "You can talk!"

Gunn eyed the vampire's torn, wet, muddy and bloodstained clothes and winced. "Please don't tell me I look worse than you do."

"Compared to you, I look like I'm ready to attend a bloomin' ball," Spike cheerfully confirmed.

"Great." Gunn cautiously sat up and was again surprised by the absence of pain. He looked over at Spike. "What's going on? The last thing I remember, we were in the alley and the demons had just hightailed it after the dragon crashed the party." He paused to consider that for a moment. "And do I want to know how that happened?"

"It got fried in the overhead power lines. Just one of many reasons why you don't often see dragons flying around over cities."

The soft reply came from the stranger. Gunn blinked at him. "Okay. And you would be…?"

The stranger, a dark-haired, silver-eyed boy in his late teens, wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket over a dark blue T-shirt, smiled slightly. "My name is Briarley."

Gunn's memory of the rest of the night's events was becoming clear again. "That's right, you were one of the ones who appeared in the alley."

"He's also the one who saved your life." Gunn's head snapped around at the voice as Angel came in from the office area. Like Spike, he looked as though he'd just gone several dozen rounds with a demonic horde. Unlike Spike, he was carrying two mugs of something that smelled remarkably like…

"If that's coffee, there's a chance I might start worshipping you."

Angel grinned as he reached the couch and handed one of the mugs to Gunn. "If you want to worship someone, try Lorne. The coffee was his idea." That got Gunn's attention.

"Lorne? He's here? But I thought… Didn't he say…?" Gunn trailed off in confusion as several more people came out of the back room into the lobby area, including the green-skinned demon that he had been sure he'd never see again. "Lorne! What are you…? I mean… It's great to see you and all, but…"

Lorne shifted uncomfortably. "But you didn't think I'd come after what I'd said. Yeah. I can't say I blame you. I'm a bit surprised myself." He glanced at the black hooded figure beside him as he spoke.

Gunn looked around the group, trying to get his thoughts in order. He took a sip of his coffee and then said the first thing that came into his head. "Someone want to fill me in on what I've missed?" He glanced at the stranger, contentedly sipping his own mug of coffee, and then looked up at Angel, who had perched himself on the arm of the couch. "Did you say this guy saved my life?"

"Yeah." Angel frowned slightly. "Although I have no idea how. I didn't know vampires could heal."

Gunn almost choked on his coffee. "Vampire?" He glanced at the boy in shock. "Okay, hold up a minute. Can we please start from the beginning? 'Cause I am completely lost here."

Angel smiled slightly and nodded. "You passed out in the alley. Apparently you were running on pure adrenaline by then and when the excitement was over…"

"Yeah, I get that bit. Then I woke up here… This is the Hyperion, right?" Gunn frowned as he looked at his surroundings more closely. "It looks… newer."

"That's because it's been completely restored." Angel shrugged at the look Gunn gave him. "I always knew we wouldn't be at Wolfram and Hart forever so, while we were there, I took the opportunity to set a few things in motion. One of them was the restoration of this place. It turns out that the CEO of Wolfram and Hart's Los Angeles' branch makes a surprising amount of money over a year. I had to use it on something, so I figured property would be a pretty good investment."

Gunn blinked. "So, let me get this straight, you own this place now?"

Angel smiled. "Actually, a trust fund owns it now, but Angel Investigations is their permanent tenant."

It was Gunn's turn to smile at that. "Cool. All right, so I passed out, you guys brought me here and…" he glanced at the boy Angel had identified as a vampire, "you healed me?" At Briarley's silent nod, Gunn nodded back. "Thanks. I guess I owe you one," he added, a slight hint of wariness in his voice.

Briarley smiled. "No thanks necessary, and there's no debt. We came here tonight for one reason, to help you and your friends to survive Wolfram and Hart's retaliation. I was merely doing my part."

Gunn thought about that for a few moments before nodding slowly. "Okay. But I still don't get that bit. I mean, why would four strangers help out like that?"

The hooded woman sounded amused when she replied. "I thought I had explained that in the alley."

"He means we want the truth. None of that good and evil stuff."

Angel winced as Spike was his usual less-than-tactful self. "And what Spike means is that we believe you didn't tell those demons the full story. There has to be more to it."

"Such as?" Again, amusement laced the cloaked female's voice.

"Such as the reason why Lorne suddenly appeared in the alley as soon as the music ended."

"He did?" Gunn blinked and eyed Lorne curiously. "You had something to do with that spell?"

The hooded woman responded before Lorne could. "He was the key. Without him, the spell would not have been possible."

Lorne shifted, still looking very uncomfortable. "Hey, you guys provided all the power. All I did was link the spell to the right moment in time."

"I'm still not clear about that whole 'spell' business. What sort of spell was it, exactly?" Although Gunn asked the question, the way Angel, Spike and Illyria immediately directed their full attention towards Lorne showed that he asked it for all of them.

Lorne frowned slightly, as if searching for the right words to explain. "The spell's based on the concept that there's one moment when a person's Fate hangs in the balance. If the spell is activated at that exact point in time, it's possible to influence that person's destiny. But it only works in certain cases."

The woman nodded and took up the explanation. "There are two kinds of Fate. For some, their destiny is set in stone. It cannot be changed, no matter how much a heart may wish it to be, or how strongly the power flows into the song. But there are others whose destinies are not so certain. Sometimes the possible futures of a life are balanced, so destiny remains undetermined until something happens that causes the balance to tip. The catalyst can be anything. A chain of events, or even a single word, choice, thought or action may be all that is needed. But there is always something that causes Fate to be decided. The actions taken at that time decide the course of history. The spell works only in the moment when the balance begins to tip. It allows the spell-singers one chance to determine which direction the balance tips in favour of."

She paused for a moment, making sure that everyone understood what she was saying before she continued. "Until tonight, all of your destinies were balanced, awaiting the catalyst that would decide your Fates. Tonight, that catalyst was revealed. The decision to destroy the Circle of the Black Thorn began a chain of events that ended in that alleyway, with all of you fighting for your lives."

"We could have been goners. You lot stepped in and made sure we got through it. Yeah, we get that." Spike moved away from the wall he'd been leaning against and strode up to the hooded woman until he was standing only a few feet from her. "But you still haven't answered the big question. Why? Why save us? What makes us so special that we're worth that sort of trouble?"

"Because I find all of you to be extremely entertaining." The room was suddenly so silent that a pin dropping would have made everyone jump in alarm.

Spike blinked. "Right. Fair enough." He shrugged and relaxed, apparently satisfied with that answer.

The woman chuckled softly and turned towards the vampire perched on the arm of the couch a few feet away. "Angel, you were correct in what you said earlier. I did not tell the whole truth in the alley. But I did not lie. There are quite a few who have been watching you and your companions. Indeed, ever since your arrival in Los Angeles five years ago, no major event in your life has gone unrecorded. The actions of you and your friends have touched more hearts than you will ever know. Including mine."

She slowly turned her hooded head towards Gunn, then Illyria. "I was watching when all of you went against the Circle. I knew that Wolfram and Hart's retaliation would be brutal, and I could not find it within myself to simply watch as it came to pass. I am not often moved in such a way. Normally, I do not interfere with Fate. Yet tonight, as each of you made your way to that alley, I found myself at a dingy little bar taking the first steps towards this very moment." She shrugged. "Perhaps it was my Fate for me to do so."

"Well it was mine, judging from what I saw back when I visited Sunnydale." Spike whirled around to eye Sweet warily and the demon grinned and winked at him. "Let's just say that there was a connection made that night. It drew me here. Now my job is done. Time for me to head back home." He grinned around at everyone and raised a hand. "It's been fun." Before anyone could do more than blink, the demon lord had vanished in a puff of red smoke.

Gunn coughed and waved his hand, fanning away the smoke. "Man… I hate it when they do that!"

Angel sniffed at the air and winced. "Sulphur and brimstone. Why is it that demon smoke always smells of sulphur and brimstone?"

Ignoring the muttering vampire, Nemesis strode forward from her position at the back of the room. "The demon had a point. It is time that we were going also. There is little of the night remaining and we promised to return before dawn." She held out her hand to Briarley and pulled him to his feet.

Spike snapped to attention. "Hang on! We never found out who you two…" Briarley raised his hand, there was a flash of light and a silver portal was suddenly hovering in the middle of the lobby. Spike blinked. "… are. Bloody hell. Where'd that thing come from?"

Briarley's silver eyes sparkled mischievously as he smiled at the blonde vampire. "I'm Briarley Haven. Some people call me the Thrice-Souled. I have an annoying tendency to show up whenever a songspell is needed without explaining how I knew it was needed or anything else about myself."

Nemesis sighed. "He does. He really does. He also has a bad habit of dragging me along with him on these trips. As if I don't have enough to do." She scowled and prodded him towards the portal. "Will you get a move on? You've already made me miss apprehending a whole night's worth of criminals. If I don't get to use my handcuffs on someone soon, I'm going to become very unhappy!"

"Which is definitely not a good thing." The softly lilting female voice came from somewhere near the couch. Gunn blinked as a small mist-grey cat padded across the floor to the portal. Just before she jumped through, he could have sworn that she turned and winked at him.

Briarley and Nemesis followed the cat through the portal. As the silver oval shimmered and vanished, an uneasy silence fell over those left behind. As usual, Spike was the first to break it.

"Well, that was fun. We survived. So… What now? We wait for Wolfram and Hart to attack us again?" He looked around the room. Angel, Gunn and Lorne shrugged in response. Illyria ignored the question.

The hooded woman slowly closed the few feet between her and the blonde vampire. She stopped directly in front of him, her hand rising to lightly brush against his pale cheek. He blinked at her in surprise but remained still. Her hand dropped to rest on his shoulder. "Wolfram and Hart will not attack again. At least, not in revenge for the events of this night. There are rules. Remember what the cat foretold?"

"You mean the bit about the dragon?"

"No, the last part."

Spike thought for a moment. "Something about vengeance turning, wasn't it?"

The woman nodded. "'Vengeance can be sought but once, before it turns back on itself.' It is an ancient rule. It means that for every act of good against evil, there can be only one retaliation of evil against good. Wolfram and Hart will continue to fight against you. However, each attack they make must be for a new reason or else it will fail. And if it fails, it will do so in such a way that whatever harm it was intended to cause, Wolfram and Hart will incur that harm themselves. Three-fold."

Angel smiled at that and Gunn couldn't resist a chuckle at the evil law firm's expense. Spike grinned. "You mean, they only had one chance to get us and because they stuffed up with the paperwork we're… What? Untouchable? No more demonic hordes? No more sticking us with pointy things?"

The hooded woman shook her head. "Not exactly. They will be after you and they will, no doubt, be even more diligent about it than before, but they will not try something of this scale again. At least, not for a while. They have suffered a great defeat this night. They will require time to recover."

Angel was only partly paying attention to her. He was more interested in Spike's original question. He raised an eyebrow. "'Sticking us with pointy things'? Is that the best you can do?"

"Hey, it's been a long night. I don't see you coming up with any snappy dialogue."

Angel squirmed. "I… could. If I wanted to."

Spike smirked. "Sure, mate. You just keep believing that."

As the two vampires began to argue, the hooded woman chuckled softly. She started to move towards the door and, strangely, neither the two vampires nor the human paid her any attention. But her movement did not go entirely unnoticed. When she reached the front door, she was not alone.

The only sign that Illyria was not completely calm was the expression in her eyes. Grief, pain and confusion mixed with other emotions that were all equally as unfamiliar to the former old one. Those eyes regarded the hooded woman steadily though as she spoke.

"Wesley's fate was decided before tonight. It could not be changed. For him, the catalyst was the death of the one he… loved. From that moment, his own death was certain." Illyria paused and then added, her voice oddly soft, "What is done cannot be undone."

The hooded woman nodded in silent confirmation. That appeared to be all that Illyria had required because she simply turned and walked away again, leaving the woman and Lorne alone.

They shared a long moment of silence. Finally, Lorne spoke softly. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving my life. For saving their lives. For reminding me."

"Reminding you of what?"

Lorne smiled slightly. "I said that I wouldn't see them again. At the time, I really thought I meant it. I'm not a fighter. I never have been and I never will be. But… hey, everyone needs friends. Family. For me…" He looked over his shoulder and chuckled softly as Angel and Spike squared off against each other. "For me, these are my friends and as close to family as I have in this dimension. Which is a good thing, believe me. If my real family were in this dimension..." Lorne shuddered just thinking about it.

"I can't believe I actually forgot… well… this. I guess I wasn't immune to Wolfram and Hart after all. They got to me. They made me doubt my friends. There were even times when I actually found myself enjoying my work there!" Lorne shifted uneasily as he admitted it.

"Believe it or not Lorne, not every aspect of Wolfram and Hart is evil. Among their clients are some perfectly ordinary humans. You did some wonderful work there. Which reminds me…" She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to the green demon. "We have a job opening in our music division at the moment. If you're interested, be there tomorrow at eleven."

As Lorne stared down at the card in shock, the hooded woman opened the door. She hesitated on the top step and tilted her head up towards the sky, her sudden movement causing her hood to fall. Lorne caught his breath, as stunned by her beauty as he had been the first time he'd seen her, the night she had first visited his club. He somehow managed to resist his sudden urge to start singing a love song.

She turned to him, her expression serious. "Come the dawn, all those of the light will know what has happened tonight. Then, the war will begin in earnest. You and the others will not be fighting alone, but I cannot promise that the battle will be an easy one. All I can really promise you is… tomorrow."

Lorne smiled. "Sounds good. We'll take it."

Epilogue to follow…


	11. Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 1: This is the final chapter. It contains **some spoilers** from the final episode of Angel. Thank you to everyone who has read this story. I hope that you have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Text in _'single quote italics'_ is being thought, not spoken.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 3: For anyone who's interested, I discuss the background of this story with the Dark Magician (Yu-Gi-Oh!) during chapter 6 of my story 'Interview with an Authoress'. Chapter 7 will most likely contain something about it too, when I write it.

DEDICATION: To the show, its creator and its actors, for bringing 'Angel' to life. Also, to my fellow fans, because a show is never truly gone as long as it is alive in our hearts.

****

A Promise of Tomorrow  
Epilogue  
By Shadow's Mirror

Lorne closed the front door of the Hyperion Hotel and turned. For a moment he simply stood there, taking in the scene before him. The lobby looked just as it had while they had lived there before, only clean and new. The restoration had done wonders for the place. His gaze moved from the architecture to the four people in the room and a feeling of calmness spread over him.

Angel and Spike had apparently agreed to disagree and had retreated to opposite corners of the lobby where they were studiously ignoring each other. The blonde vampire was having a rather animated discussion with Illyria while Angel spoke with Gunn. With Spike and Illyria, their choice for conversation could have been anything from battle stories to the best strategy for Crash Bandicoot. But the mood over on the couch was so somber there could be only one topic of discussion.

Lorne sighed softly. _'Well folks. Here we are. It's not quite back to the beginning, but this is where it all started for me. So much has changed. Not all of it good.'_ He sighed again.

_'Doyle, I never knew you but I've heard the stories. Your memory lives on. Cordy darlin', you are so sorely missed. You put him back on the right path in the end though, and for that, we all thank you. Fred.'_ A tear trickled down Lorne's cheek. _'Ah Fred. A part of you is still here, with us. In a way, that makes it all the more painful to know that you're gone. That just leaves… Wes.'_ Another tear fell, then another_. 'Find her Wes. Find her and be happy. But you've left a legacy here, whether you meant to or not.'_ Lorne looked over at Illyria and smiled through his tears. _'She misses you, Wes. You took a being who hated humans and now look at her. She's one of us. Only you could have done it, Wes. Only you.'_

"Hey Lorne! Are you planning on spending all night over there? Come on, we have plans to make."

Angel's voice jolted Lorne out of his internal monologue. He nodded. "Coming." Turning back to the door, he made a show of locking it while covertly wiping the tears from his eyes.

Lorne joined Angel and Gunn just before Illyria and Spike reached them too. Spike frowned slightly. "What you got there, mate?"

"What? Oh, you mean this?" Lorne held up the object in his hand. "It's a little thing called a business card. You may have heard of them."

"I can see that, you green git. I meant where did you…" Spike suddenly blinked and looked around, as though searching for something, or someone. "Hey! Where'd she go? Angel! That hooded woman's gone!"

"What?" Angel looked around and grimaced when he saw Spike was right. "No! I had some questions for her!"

Lorne chuckled softly. "Relax Angel-Cake, you'll have plenty of opportunities to talk to her. I'm going to see her tomorrow. She mentioned a job opening."

Angel blinked. "A job? Doing what? Who is she, Lorne?"

In answer, Lorne handed Angel the business card. Then he dropped onto the couch beside Gunn and waited for Angel's reaction.

The card was a pleasant sandy-parchment colour with an elegant silver and gold border designed to look like entwined vines. The company name was printed neatly along the top, with the hooded woman's name underneath it. Angel read the words, blinked, re-read them and then slowly raised his head to stare at Lorne in shock. "You're kidding."

Lorne reached up and plucked the card from Angel's hand. He grinned as he slipped it into his pocket. "Afraid not, Muffin."

Spike and Gunn looked from Lorne to Angel and back again, identical looks of confusion on their faces. "Will one of you please tell us who she is, or do I have to hurt someone? Preferably him," Spike added with a gesture at Angel.

"She works for Nine Muses Inc. They're a company specialising in the creation and promotion of art, entertainment, music and literature," Lorne explained, trying not to grin.

"Ah. Never heard of them. Well, I have heard of the Muses, naturally, but not the company. So, what's her name?" Spike leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, looking bored.

Lorne smiled serenely. "Oh, that was Melpomene. You know, the Muse of Tragedy." Lorne settled back in his chair and smiled as he enjoyed the rare sight of Spike, Angel and Gunn all staring at him in stunned disbelief.

Illyria looked at the three of them and frowned slightly. "You were not aware of her identity? Could you not sense her power?"

Spike glanced at Illyria and suddenly grinned. "Love, if I'd known who she was, I would have asked her for her autograph! Well that settles it, that does. Angel, I'm staying." He nodded and leaned back against the wall.

Angel frowned at him. "You're what?"

"I'm staying. There's no way you're getting rid of me. Not now I have a chance to meet a real Muse. Have you any idea how long I've wanted to meet one? The Muses are my idols. Always have been. Since before Dru turned me. I mean… hello! Poet, remember?" Spike smirked.

"Spike, I know you write, I'm just not sure if it could actually be called 'poetry'."

"What? Hey! I'll have you know the guys at the bar loved it! They kept asking for more!"

"Bar? What bar? Never mind. The point is, you're not staying!"

"Oh yes I am!"

As Lorne listened to the two vampires arguing, he smiled slightly. "Ah… It's good to be home."

The End


End file.
